Here are some phrases that have been quoted frequently in English literature over the past hundred years, even showing up in some recent Hollywood movies:
“the eternal note of sadness”
“the turbid ebb and flow of human misery”
“we are here as on a darkling plain”
“swept with confused alarms”
“where ignorant armies clash by night”
They are all from “Dover Beach,” a fairly short poem written by English poet Matthew Arnold about 150 years ago. The entire poem is printed at the end of this article.
As you can tell from the memorable lines I’ve quoted above, the poem presents a pretty bleak picture of the human condition. The author seems to be looking out over Dover Beach, a spot where the English Channel is at its narrowest, so that the coast of France can be seen. In the endless cadence of the waves, as well as the repetition of high tides and low tides, he sees a picture of the sad monotony of one human life, and also the sameness of each futile human life to every other. He reflects on the fact that the Greek dramatist Sophocles, writing twenty-two centuries earlier, had noted the same tragic hopelessness faced by men and women of every age.
Most poignant, Arnold notes that in his day the refuge many had found in their religion seemed to be disappearing:
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating . . .
Arnold then turns to a surprisingly hopeful note:
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain.
It has been pointed out by some biographers that Arnold spent his honeymoon with his bride Frances Lucy at Dover Beach and that during this time he may have penned an early draft of the poem. If this is true, the first days of his marriage were filled with some pretty dark thoughts. Yet the poem does seem to suggest that a strong, positive love relationship can make it all worthwhile. Maybe that’s what a human life is all about – finding someone to love.
A Christian believer, however, may be able to take this a big step further and apply Arnold’s message in a deeper way. What if the “love” of Arnold’s ecstasy is seen as our relationship with God himself? Can we see how being loved by God, and loving him back, shines out against the otherwise-drab monotony of human existence? Nothing else in this “land of dreams” has any lasting meaning. God says to the believer, and the believer answers back, “Ah, love, let us be true to one another!” In this way, the “Sea of Faith” can be full again and “the eternal note of sadness” be exchanged for an ever-expanding eternal symphony of joy
–Pastor George Van Alstine
DOVER BEACH
by Matthew Arnold
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.